a warped tree edited
A Warped Tree
Today, when not arguing with Walter the Jew on Facebook
the ambiance in the house was surprisingly calm since
I got a key to my study in peace to read my latest collection
and found, at times, the poems had an internal rhyme and
were little stories
The pity is that I have to write without a publisher
can't afford to hire one; those I dare to ask run a thousand miles
one of them, a poor man, is a lecturer at Udevalla
Last year, I visited a crooked tree so shy its roots curled
in bashfulness, and its leaves took an autumnal color
I wanted to know if there was a way for me to help get
her more gracious and straight
She took offense and said she was 105.
I felt like pointing out the tree by the drive into our village -
an olive tree is so old there is a possibility
Jesus sat under it, writing protest notes to the priests
in the service of the Roman church
One day the came, the uncouth people from the traffic division
chopped down ancient history and threw the remains
down a drain
Angrily, I protested to my doctor about the vandals
with my fist hit the table so hard a stethoscope fell to the floor
then the porter came, and I was made to leave.
When I came to Portugal, the natural thing was to study
and learn the language, but at the time, I was wrapped up
learning English
The Portuguese language is superbly fitted to Fado, but as a "lingo" for conversation, I failed,
I knew enough to get married.
The Norwegian vocality sounds like a Dane trying to talk Swedish
and is like wet cement being poured down a ditch dug by Lusitanos
spitting tobacco.
Ach, mein lieber Gott, I have lost many friends in the last sixty years.
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